


Scales, Winchesters, Hero-Worship, and Sweaters

by imaginaryfemaletrouble



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, F/M, also gabriel is alive, aries is a girl, castiel hero worhsips libra, libra is awkward, libra likes sweaters, post original apocalypse, sam and dean save the world...again, the horoscope signs are nephilim, this idea came to me for like four seconds on a monday
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-03-01
Updated: 2018-03-01
Packaged: 2019-03-25 10:40:19
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 787
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13832442
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/imaginaryfemaletrouble/pseuds/imaginaryfemaletrouble
Summary: Dean and Sam are out doing hunts for Crowley when Castiel shows up.  Someone else is stealing artifacts from Heaven, and he needs help figuring out who that is.  To make matters worse, a nephilim named Libra turns up at the hotel, revealing that her most prized possession is among the items taken.  Dean and Sam have to help her find it or else there could be dire consequences.  The kind that throw the Earth off its axis.





	Scales, Winchesters, Hero-Worship, and Sweaters

Libra crossed through the hallway into the back bedroom of her house.  The periwinkle walls and white trim gave the place an airy feel.  It was her own little slice of Heaven.  Literally.  God had sectioned off this area for the Twelve, and each of them had created their own perfect place.  As she neared the doorway, she noticed the air felt off.  Something wasn’t quite right.  Her fears were confirmed when she slammed the door open.  They were gone. 

 

 

 

              Sam dropped his duffel onto the bed farthest from the room’s door.  The sheets were Pepto pink with burnt orange swirls.  Like someone had tried to re-create Van Gogh’s “Starry Night” with a kid’s Danimals yogurt.  Dean followed, kicking the door closed and flopping facedown on his bed. 

              “God, I need some sleep.”  His voice was muffled by the blankets. 

              Sam settled at the little table in the corner, flipping his laptop open. 

              “I’ll research and wake you up when I’m done.” 

              Dean shot up and glared Sam’s direction. 

              “I mean, I know you don’t have a soul right now, Sammy, but come on!  Can’t you let a guy get a decent amount of sleep once in a while?”  He threw one of the pillows towards his little brother, and Sam dodged it. 

              “Dean, we’re working a case.”  Sam turned sideways in the chair, resting his arm along the back while his other hand gestured generally to the room.  “We have to find out what’s killing the local elderly.  So I’m sorry if you can’t have a leisurely nap, but it’s our job.” 

              Dean groaned and put his back to Sam.  He was just about to fall asleep when he heard the familiar sound of wings from the foot of the bed. 

              “Son of a-”

              “Dean.  Sam.  We have a problem.” 

              The two brothers focused their attention on Castiel.  His mouth was a tight line of strain.  Sam stood quickly, nearly tipping the chair. 

              “What is it?” he asked. 

              “There are more items missing from Heaven than before, and I don’t think it’s Balthazar this time.”  Dean rubbed his face with his hand before leaning forward and resting his elbows on his thighs. 

              “You mean to tell me… Someone other than Balthazar… Is going all Swiper the Fox on Heaven’s weapons of mass destruction?” 

              Castiel nodded once, curtly. 

              “Yes, Dean.  It would be helpful if you two tell me the details of your hunts.  Perhaps some of them would coincide with missing items.” 

              Sam ran a hand through his hair and took a few steps forward in the angel’s direction.

              “Yes, of course Cas-”

              The sound of fluttering wings cut him off, leaving him and Dean alone in the motel room once again.  The elder Winchester slumped back onto the bed. 

              “Now I really need some sleep.” 

 

 

 

              Dean splashed cool water on his face and grabbed for a towel.  It was the night after Castiel had told them more things were being stolen from Heaven.  He opened the bathroom door and jumped in surprise.  Castiel stood in the dark of the room. 

              “What the hell, Cas!?” 

              “Dean, what are the details of your current hunt?” 

              Dean opened his mouth to answer when he saw a shadow appear near the window behind Sam.  Sam must have noticed, too, because both Winchesters perked into alerted positions.  Dean pulled his pistol from the back of his pants and raised it slowly towards the figure.

              “Just who the hell are you!?” 

              The motel room lamps suddenly switched on.  Next to the switch stood a young woman.  She was somewhat plump with burgundy hair and a scowl on her face that contrasted with her porcelain-doll like features.  She wore a gray sweater with jeans and a pair of combat style boots.

              “I would appreciate if you’d put the gun down, Dean Winchester.  I’m not going to hurt you.”  There was a hint of desperation beneath the annoyance in her voice. 

              “That’s all well and good, lady, but I don’t know you well enough to trust you.” 

              Castiel sidled up next to Dean and placed a hand on his gun, urging him to lower it.  His eyes never left the woman. 

              “Libra,” he murmured, almost to himself. 

              The woman folded her arms across her chest.  She shifted from foot to foot, there seemed to be some kind of fear in her eyes. 

              “Castiel, I need to speak with you.

              “What’s going on?” 

              “It’s not good, Castiel.  My-”

              Dean turned to the angel and shoved his pistol back into the waist of his pants. 

              “Do you mind telling us who the mystery maiden is, Cas?”

              Castiel walked over to the woman and put a comforting hand on her shoulder.

              “Dean.  Sam.  This is Libra.”  


End file.
